A Modest Proposal
by Pharoah'sCat
Summary: Sometimes you need to do a thing more than once to get it just right.


_Author's Note: I tried pretty hard to research what fine jewelry might have cost in the 1870s, but came up short, so the figures given are just a guess. _

A Modest Proposal

Victoria waited eagerly for Buck and Joe to return from the monthly supply trip to Tucson. She had put in a several special orders to improve her kitchen garden; a new variety of bean she was eager to try, some lettuce that a friend in Sonora had written her about - it withstood the desert heat much better than most lettuce - a new set of chicks to replenish the chicken flock, two turkeys…now that the McLeishes had left, they would have to to provide their own Thanksgiving turkeys …and, most excitingly, 2 young goats, mother and kid.

"Goats?" John had sputtered when she first mentioned ordering them, "what on earth do you want goats for?"

"Well, in the first place, the will keep down the brush from around the garden. Goats will eat things that cattle and horses will not. AND," she continued, before he could interrupt, "while she is still producing milk, I am going to try and make goat cheese. And it seems that she will continue to produce milk long after the kid is weaned. We might have kid for fiesta…it would make a change from the endless beef." She made a face indicating she had long tired of 'endless beef.'

"Can I just point out, that if it is milk you want, we have an entire cattle herd. Including heifers."

Victoria waved her hand dismissively. "Those poor things that spend their life on the range, the milk is sour as it comes out."

John sighed, knowing he had lost yet another small skirmish in the running of the more domestic side of High Chaparral's operation. In truth he didn't much mind; Victoria, for all her privileged upbringing, had turned out to be a wonderful administrator of all sorts of things around the ranch that made life there infinitely more comfortable for everyone. For that, and for too many other things to name, he really didn't mind yielding ground once again to his wife.

Still, he couldn't resist one warning….born of hard experience. "All right, if you want goats than goats you shall have. But, take my word for it, goats are about 10 times smarter than cattle and 100 times more trouble. There is nothing they can't get into. We had goats on the farm where Buck and I grew up and we spent about half our time just trying to keep up with the trouble they caused. "

Victoria looked deeply skeptical. "Really, how much trouble could 2 little goats possibly be?"

John just shrugged and smiled. "When they get here, you'll find out," he said with a laugh.

In any case, the same day that Victoria impatiently awaited Buck and Joe's arrival back at the ranch, John had his own reasons for looking forward to the supply wagon.

* * *

One day when he and Victoria had been in San Francisco on their combination honeymoon/recovery trip, he and his old friend, Hannibal, had detached themselves from their wives, (who were exploring the many milliners of San Francisco), and had been strolling through the streets nearby, keeping a careful look out for pick pockets and other criminals that seemed to roam the streets in healthy numbers, when John stopped so abruptly in front of a store window, Hannibal had walked right into him…and bounced off the larger man.

John was staring into the window of a jewelry store. The window was heavily barred…so much so it looked more like a jail, than a store window… but he could still see a necklace that practically reached through the bars and glass and grabbed him by the lapels. It was a simple necklace, set with what he would come to find out were amber cabochons. It was the amber that compelled his eyes and his interest. He saw in those stones the same colors he saw deep in his wife's eyes. Most people would probably describe Victoria's eyes as a lovely dark brown…so dark they looked black at times. And so they were. But John had ample opportunity to study Victoria's eyes more closely and he knew that within their depths flashed sparks of gold, and a color he never had a word for until now - amber.

He grabbed Hannibal's arm and hauled him into the store. The jeweler, after putting down his shotgun, happily showed the two men the necklace. It was Russian amber…the finest kind he said. But all jewelers said that sort of thing and all John really cared about was the color. There was one large stone in the middle, flanked by 2 smaller stones. The stones were close in color, but not identical; each flashed a slightly different golden light. Each reminded him of the light he found in Victoria's eyes.

The jeweler…whose name was something German and unpronounceable…explained that each piece was mounted as if it was a diamond, in what was called a pave setting, and then incorporated in the silver lengths. "Princess length" the jeweler concluded. He took the necklace out of the case and draped it over John's hand. "Made right here in San Francisco by some Ruskie."

John studied the piece carefully. As he held it, he realized how light it was; it seemed to flow in his hands like water. Once he got past the still arresting amber, he noticed that the silver in the necklace was beautifully worked. The design was not figurative but it reminded John of some of the imagery he had seen on Apache baskets and pottery. It was somehow both delicate and strong; perfect for Victoria.

Hannibal took the necklace from John and fished a loupe' out of his pocket. "Never travel without one of these," he said cheerfully. He studied the necklace; both the stones and the silver work for a long time. "Its definitely sterling silver and that is for sure amber…though whether it is Russian, I couldn't say." He handed the necklace back to John.

"You understand that amber isn't a gem? Not what they call a 'precious stone…'. Not like a diamond or sapphire?" The jeweler frowned at Hannibal.

John nodded, though as far as this particular necklace was concerned it was a distinction without a difference to him.

"How much?" He inquired.

The jeweler hemmed and hawed for quite a while; trying to judge how much a man who was clearly transfixed by the piece but who also had a knowledgeable friend by his side, would be willing to pay.

"$100" he finally blurted out.

John slid his eyes toward Hiram, who gave the smallest of shrugs and the slightest of eyebrow twitches.

In truth, John would have paid even more for the necklace, but going by Hiram's reaction and his own innate business sense, he replied. "$55."

After that, there was a reasonable amount of haggling…and eventually a price of $70 was reached. John felt ridiculously pleased. He had never given Victoria anything like this before…water pumps and corn crops, a sewing machine and the occasional dress was about all he had managed. And she had even picked out the dresses, (with some input from him.) But this was his; to give to her.

John had brought some extra cash with him, in case of emergencies, but it was tucked away in the hotel safe. He told the jeweler that he would be back later in the afternoon to pay him and pick up the necklace.

Feeling deeply satisfied, John was just offering to buy Hannibal a drink but as they left the store, something else caught his eye. Something flashed and nearly winked at him from a small case tucked almost behind the door.

"Let me see that," he said, pointing to a ring that was near the front.

"Oh sir, that ring is terribly old fashioned. Well out of style. Let me show you something more contemporary."

"I'll have a look at that," John said firmly.

With a sigh, the jeweler pulled the ring from the case and set it on a piece of black velvet.

As John and Hannibal gazed down, Hannibal said, very quietly, "You got an eye John. I'll say that. You got an eye on ya."

Before them lay a golden band set with a diamond. But what a band; three different golds -white, yellow and rose were braided in an endless circuit. And the diamond, though not especially large and in a simple setting, was flawless. Even in the dim light of the store it looked like a miniature star - sending out myriad flashes of color and light.

John took a deep breath…but before he could say anything, Hannibal took out his loupe again. He spent some time examining the ring, then put it down and motioned John out of earshot of the jeweler…who looked at them with ill-disguised eagerness.

"The diamond's good John. Better than good. Real old I think, going by the setting. And the band…well it's special too. I never seen gold worked just like that…and all 3 colors. Gold is real heavy…and this has heft to it, but it ain't …well, it aint' 'draggy'...if you see what I mean. I would have to have it tested to see exactly how many carats…."

John interrupted. "Doesn't matter how many," he said, softly. "I want it."

"Well, all the more reason to know the weight. Gold by the ounce, diamonds by carat."

"What do you guess?"

Hannibal walked over to the ring again, hefted it in his hand and then looked again through his loupe.

Stepping back to John he said, "I'd say over a carat. MAYBE one and a quarter. The gold is probably all 24 carat…at least 18. It's a doozy."

John turned to face storeowner, now nearly panting with eagerness.

"How much?"

"Well sir…for such an extraordinary estate piece…"

"Estate? I thought you said it was "old fashioned."

"Much the same, sir, much the same," the jeweler replied blandly. He paused, again trying to calculate just how much this market would bear. After all, the only real value in gems was what people were willing to pay for them.

Finally, he said. "$1,500." He almost flinched as he named his price.

John's eyebrow's shot up, but he said nothing. Hannibal, on the other hand, let out a boisterous whoop of derision. "Fifteen Hundred dollars! You gotta pair on you mister!"

The jeweler flinched again, but held his ground. "This is a nearly perfect diamond, sir and the gold is of superior quality and workmanship." He looked nervously at John, who still said nothing. But who's mind's eye was reckoning a tally sheet of what $1,500 could buy in vital supplies and equipment for the High Chaparral.

After what seemed an endless silence, John finally said, "$1,000. That's all I'll do."

The jeweler fussed and fumed, and reiterated the many attributes of the ring. But, his heart really wasn't in it. Long years of haggling with customers had made him a good judge of how far customers would and would not be moved in terms of price. And this man had set his price. And, since that ring had been sitting in his store since he had acquired the business over two decades ago, he was not inclined to look a gift customer in the mouth.

With a resigned shrug and a nod, the price was agreed to. "But of course, I must have full payment and in cash."

"But, I am not from here and I don't carry that kind of cash on me!"

"Perhaps you could have the money wired from your bank," the jeweler suggested helpfully.

John pondered the amount in the ranch account in Tuscon and where it was already allocated and when he might expect more, and his heart fell. Without credit from this jeweler or a bigger win in a poker game than he had ever had in his life, he had no way to come up with the money.

But Hannibal came to the rescue. "Say, John, why don't you let me buy it and then you can pay me back?"

John was willing taking loans from a bank when he had to, but a loan from a friend was not anything he cared to indulge in.

"Its good of you to offer Hannibal, but I can't…"

Hannibal interrupted him…"Now I knew you'd say that even before I made the offer. So just listen. I'll buy the ring and I'll hold on to it, as collateral, like. And you can just pay me off as you can."

John seemed interested, but still shook his head.

Frustrated, Hannibal grabbed John by the arm and tugged him back out of the owner's earshot.

"Now, listen you mule headed son of a gun, you got a good deal with that ring. It's worth $1,000 EASY. So even if something was to happen and you couldn't pay me back…which we both know full well you WILL…I wouldn't be out a cent. So, c'mon…"

Reluctantly, but gratefully, John agreed. "Thank you Hannibal. I really appreciate that."

The quickly went over the details of the transaction with the jeweler. John and Hannibal would come back the next day; John to pay for and take the necklace and Hannibal the ring.

As they stepped back out onto the street, Hannibal said, "You sure wanted that ring a lot. Are you going to give it to your missus at Christmas or her birthday?"

"Neither," John said with a grin. "I am going to use that ring to ask my wife to marry me."

Hannibal's jaw flapped for a bit before he repeated, "ask your wife to marry you!? If that ain't…Well, don't you beat all!" Hannibal threw back his head and laughed.

John joined in and then said, "C'mon, let's go get that drink, and I am DEFINITELY buying."

* * *

John had given the necklace to Victoria on her birthday. As so often happened, he was hopelessly tongue tied trying to express what he felt about the necklace and about her. In private he was sometimes able to find such words, and in actions he could be downright eloquent in showing Victoria how much she meant to him. But in a situation like this, in front of others, he retreated into reticence. In the end, he had simply thrust the box…tied with an emerald green ribbon…in her hands with a mumbled, "I hope you like this." The expression on her face as she opened it told him everything he needed to know about whether she liked it. Her arms around him told him even more. Later, when they were alone, he told her about the amber he saw in her eyes…and in the necklace. She looked at him with something between surprise and delight. "Sometimes," she said softly, "I think deep down, you really ARE a poet, John Cannon."

It wasn't as if Victoria went to or hosted many occasions were such a necklace would be appropriate and yet, the simplicity that underscored its beauty, meant she could wear the piece more than one might think. And every time she did, John was filled a special pleasure.

Meanwhile, as regular as he could manage it, John was sending payments to Hannibal and just last month he had finished paying off the ring. Hannibal had carefully packaged the ring in its box among some chess pieces he was sending to John. "Great Chinese workmanship," he had informed John in the latest of their letters. "I know you like chess, and I guarantee you will find this set especially interesting."

As a result both John and Victoria were excited to see the dust clouds that heralded the supply wagon drawing close. And quite a sight it was as Joe guided the team and the wagon into the yard. A large cage with nearly 30 baby chicks was the source of so much loud peeping it threatened to drown out the occasional bleating of the two goats who rocked in a wooden crate on top of the chicks, while 2 adolescent turkeys gobbled nervously from yet another cage at the top of the goats. Buck was wedged in the back, with one foot on one cage and his second foot on another, his back against sacks of corn meal and flour, trying to keep the pyramid of cages from tumbling loose. It was not an especially graceful or dignified position.

John laughed as this land bound ark slowed to a stop in front of the ranch house.

"Whaddya doing back there, Buck?"

Buck stood up in the back of the buckboard with as much dignity as he could muster. Picking a few turkey feathers off his hat, he responded, "Well, I'll tell you brother John, I am TRYING to ride herd on your wife's," (and here he tipped his hat at Victoria, who was laughing along with John), "ZOO! And believe me, it ain't easy!" He jumped down from the buckboard.

"Oh, Buck, thank you!" Victoria said, suppressing her laughter. She picked a few more feathers from his shirt. "I am VERY grateful. And," she said looking sternly around at the hands who had gathered and joined in the laughter, "when we are eating our Thanksgiving turkey and maybe even kid, you will ALL be grateful too!"

To distract himself and the hands from more laughter at Buck's expense, John started organizing the unloading. Pedro carefully took down the cage of turkeys, while Blue, who had wandered over from the corral, joined Sam in unloading the goats. "They're kinda cute," he remarked to his father. "Cute, huh? You'll see," John replied with a grim smile. A few more hands wrestled the chick cage up and out and all headed toward the kitchen garden area with its hen house and its newly prepared turkey and goat pens.

Buck reached into the back of the wagon and pulled a small package that he handed to Victoria. "These must be your seeds…lot less trouble than animals, I'll say that. And they don't smell either!" he commented, taking a whiff of his own clothing.

"Nothing for me?" Inquired John anxiously.

"Oh yeah…almost forgot." He handed John a small box. "This came from your friend Hannibal."

"Hannibal!? What is it?" Victoria asked.

"Oh, just some unusual chess figures he found for me."

"Oh, that's nice." Victoria almost immediately lost interest and turned her attention to installing the new denizens of her expanding animal husbandry enclave.

Buck began to drift away as well, when John stopped him.

"Hey, why were you stuck in the back of the buckboard with Joe driving? You cut cads and lose?"

"Well, not exactly," Buck admitted with a rueful shake of the head. "We decided that the first one to miss a target after each glass of beer would ride in the back."

"And you LOST?!" John was genuinely astonished. He was fully cognizant of his brother's shooting skill, and even more of how well he could hold his liquor.

"Well, I WOULDA won," Buck protested, "but old man Sneppel came out of the salon to see what was goin' on and jostled my arm! Joe said it still counted 'cause if I had been more sober I woulda heard him comin'"

John just laughed. "I guess there is some justice in all that, but I am damned if I can find it."

Buck gave his clothing another dubious sniff. "Goats, huh?"

John shrugged. "I TRIED to warn her."

"I'm gonna go take a bath," Buck said a trifle glumly. "I think one of them goats done pissed on me."

* * *

After a few weeks or so, the new animals at High Chaparral seemed to settle in quite well. The goats, (now named Sadie and Sara,) had made a few tentative attempts at escape, and one of them even did some damage to Joe's hat. He had dropped it on the ground a little too near the goats' pen and quick as anything Sadie…or maybe it was Sara…grabbed it and gave it a good taste test before Joe was able to wrestle it back. But, by in large, everything went smoothly.

In fact, the entire ranch was enjoying an extended period of tranquility; settling into a peaceful - almost languid - routine. The only person who seemed unable to fully enjoy this time of peace and prosperity was John. Partly because, as Buck put it…"that's just the way he is." And partly because, he was wrestling, very much in secret, as to the when and where of asking his own wife to marry him.

When he first saw the ring in the jeweler's shop and almost instantly decided to buy it he knew exactly the 'what' of the ring…to use it propose to his wife. But the 'why' eluded him. It made no sense. And John Canon was nothing if not a man of sense. Why should he feel so strongly about something that seemed at best redundant and at worst, a little silly? And expensive. But as he gradually paid the ring off he had the time to consider. First, he quickly came to realize that he dearly wanted to give Victoria the wedding that their marriage of convenience had simply steam rolled over. And next, he figured out that he wanted that moment for himself as well. He did not want his memories…or her's…of their wedding to include him, standing beside her, barely acknowledging her presence, rigid in a miasma of anger, frustration, and guilt; overwhelmed by a sense of helplessness. He, quite desperately, as he discovered, wanted to say the marriage vows again, and this time mean them completely, and with all his heart.

But that still left the matter of logistics. Where should he ask her? And when?

In the privacy of their bedroom? Before or after dinner, when the whole family was gathered? Or, when he and Victoria were alone in the house? Should he invite her for a ride and head to an especially pretty spot he knew beside a cool stream? That last idea seemed the best to him, but just as he was working his way up to it, reports came in of skirmishes between two bands of Apaches in that area. He didn't want to risk it. And yet the other ideas just didn't … for reasons he didn't understand himself…seem to suit.

So he worried and fretted to the point of such distraction that one day he had led his horse from the barn wearing its bridle…but no saddle. Fortunately, no one saw that. And he often found himself staring into space as he worked the ranch books. Victoria DID see that and pressed him gently on what he might be worried about, but he managed to mumble something half way convincing about cattle prices.

So the ring burned a hole in his pocket…or, more accurately…a hole in the safe…while he continued to chase himself in circles as the rest of the ranch basked in unthreatened routine.

Routine that was abruptly shattered one morning just after breakfast when a small band of Comancheros (though Mano said later that calling them that was giving them too much credit.), came swooping and hollering toward the ranch, wasting more ammunition in two minutes than anyone with any sense would use in half an hour. Startled, the ranch hands quickly threw up their long practiced defenses and it didn't take long for the tide to turn in Chaparral's favor. The attackers …only 5 or 6 in number…appeared to be very young and quite possibly drunk; at least going by the way a few of them failed to sit their horses…which were spavined and skinny mounts.

"I can't decide who looks more beat up…the riders or the horses, " Blue commented to Buck.

"I tell you Blue," said Buck, in between firing at the inept raiders, "I am insulted!" **BLAM!** InSULTED that these knuckleheads think they can just ride in here playing at ….playin' at…well whatever the hell they think they are playin' at!" **BLAM! BLAM!**

Quickly…very quickly…the pathetic raid and the sad sack perpetrators disappeared in a cloud of retreating dust. But despite its incompetence, the raid was not without impact.

None of the Chaparral hands were seriously hurt…though all the shooting did carve out a large splinter of wood which lodged itself in one man's arm. But the damage to the ranch yard was more worry-some.

A weak fence rail in the horse corral…something Sam was going to get to that very morning … allowed the horses, waiting to be saddled for the day's work to break out and get loose in the yard. If it had been just the working horses, that wouldn't have been so bad; after all the shooting and yelling died down, they would have wandered over to their barn. But the crew had just brought in a dozen mustangs from the wild herd and the spooked ranch horses had done what horses do…try and join other horses… and had crashed through that corral as well. As a result, over 20 very skittish horses were darting hither and yon, getting tangled up in more fencing, running themselves into a froth and all sorts of trouble.

In fact, two big horses jostling for position as they escaped the corral had side swiped one of the supports of the water tower and the tower now leaned dangerously atilt, sending a small waterfall of water, leaking from a bullet hole or two, down on top of men, horses and a few of the bolder chickens.

And speaking of chickens, Victoria's kitchen garden and enclosures had not escaped damage. The hen house remained unscathed, but a mustang had galloped right through the new lettuce patch, (and the young lettuce were doing SO well), ripped up the fencing around the bewildered turkeys, who flapped uncertainly away, and attempted to leap the goat pen. He, (the horse), made it, but his rear hooves knocked down the top rail of the pen and Sadie and Sara immediately took the opportunity to venture forth and see what all the commotion was about.

They weren't alone.

John had been in the house when the first shots and warning cries ran out. He immediately strapped on his gun, but stayed to help Victoria close the shutters and peep holes. He firmly told her to stay inside and stepped out into the fray.

It was really was all over but the shouting by the time he got to the middle of the yard. But there was a lot of shouting still to be heard.

John stood in the middle of his ranch yard and contemplated the scene; scenes. Sam and Blue were trying to get at least the ranch horses under control; with mixed results. Having rediscovered their freedom, a few of them seemed determined to make the most of it. Buck's Rebel was proving especially and unusually rebellious and had already knocked down not one but two of the shade trellises in the yard. Mano and two hands were trying to set a brace under the creaking and leaking water tower. (John took a moment to consider that water tower. Since the earliest days on the ranch it had seemed especially vulnerable; collapsing, leaking, shot up, and once, incongruously, even catching fire. He really should do something about that, he decided.) Meanwhile, Buck was tending to the wounded ranch hand…sitting him in the shade of the porch outside the bunkhouse and trying to figure if he could get the large splinter out …possibly with the help of a good shot of whiskey for both patient and 'doctor'. ("Now, you just set here with me…we'll have that thing out in jig time.") Pedro was hot on the heels of the turkeys. He had managed to tackle one, and had stuffed it in the bunk house for safe keeping, and was now trying to figure out how to get at the second turkey, which had made its way to the top of the listing water tower and was hanging on for dear life…and, in its terror, occasionally sending bursts of turkey droppings cascading down on those below who were trying to shore up the tower. (Its a good thing they all were wearing hats.)

Suddenly, from inside the house, John heard Victoria scream. He bolted back to the house and flung open the door. Victoria was standing, hands on hips, at the landing on the top of the stairs and she was loosing a torrent of Spanish that John was pretty sure included several not very lady-like words. He followed her gaze to see the object of her ire. And there was Sadie..or maybe it was Sara…standing on top of the dining room table thoughtfully munching on the cotton table runner. Meanwhile, Sara…or maybe it was Sadie…was perched on top of Victoria's brand new horsehair, rose velvet, sofa and tugging out tufts of fabric. But something was wrong with the goat on the sofa…wasn't it? Why was a brown and black goat suddenly all white? John blinked and edged closer to the goat in question…who regarded him with cautious bleats. Helpfully, the goat gave a vigorous shake of its body, like a dog coming out of water, and a flurry of what John was pretty sure was flour flew into the air. The goat then sneezed.

"Is that…flour?" He inquired of Victoria..

"O..Mio Dios…!" She ran past him into the kitchen. "Oh those….those DIABLOS!"

Cautiously John poked his head into the kitchen. He discovered that both he and Victoria had forgotten to close and bolt the kitchen door. (That was bad…very bad… he told himself.). Sadie…or Sara…or both had gotten into the kitchen area and then at least one of them had made it up onto to the lower shelf in the pantry and succeeded in pulling or knocking down a large canister of flour …and said flour had anointed the goat below. Several other items on that shelf, including strings of peppers and garlic and John's precious coffee were also spilled on the floor…

"My coffee." he said sadly.

"Your coffee!" Victoria, fumed. She grabbed a broom and for a second John thought she was going to use it on him, but she had even more annoying prey in mind. She charged past him and soon she and her broom and the two goats were engaged in full on warfare; with the territory of the house as the prize. The goats were fast and agile, but Victoria and her broom had reach and wallop. John helped her block off the upstairs…but only after one of the goats had danced and pranced on Blue's bed…and access to the kitchen. And finally, with no other outlet allowed them, the 2 goats hurtled out the front door into the yard, Victoria hard on their heels.

John followed her out, but paused in the doorway. Things had changed in his absence, but not much. Sam and Blue, now joined by Joe, had gotten most of the ranch horses calmed down and back into either the barn or the hastily repaired corral, but a few more still milled about playing frustrating games of 'keep away.' The mustangs, were in fact gone, and would have to be recaptured. The water tower still looked precarious at best, but Pedro was bravely climbing up, carrying a blanket with which he hoped to capture the turkey, who regarded him with deep mistrust, while Mano and the hands below yelled mostly unhelpful advice up to Pedro. More of the hens, apparently deciding that they were missing something, had wiggled under a gap in their pen and now flapped and squawked about…further spooking the horses and generally getting in everyone's way. The rooster found himself a spot on a fence post and, despite the fact that it was nowhere near either dawn or dusk, crowed relentlessly. Victoria stood in the middle of the yard, broom at the ready and talking, mostly to herself, in Spanish. He didn't quite dare contemplate where the goats might have gotten to. Somewhere at the end of Victoria's stare, he figured.

John could only shake his head and smile. And make a decision. One of the strangest yet 'right-est' decisions he had ever made. He strode back into the house, opened the safe and took out the ring box and went back out into the yard. Victoria stood with her back to him and when he first called her name…what with all the confusion and noise… she didn't hear him, so he repeated it more loudly, but still gently.

"WHAT!?" She said, whirling around to face him. Victoria had spatters of flour, and bits of broom bristles in her hair; a smudge of dirt…or maybe coffee…graced one cheekbone. Strands of her hair had escaped control and stood up or fell down at interesting angles. Her dress was askew and showed signs of her recent battle with Sadie and Sara. John thought she had never looked more beautiful.

Without hesitation he dropped to one knee in front of her. "Victoria Valasquez de Soto de Montoya, will you do me the very great honor of becoming my wife?" He opened the box and held the ring up to her.

Utterly nonplussed, Victoria could only stare down at him, her eyes traveling from his face to the proffered ring and back to his face. "What?" This time it was barely whispered.

Patiently John said, "I want you to have the wedding you…we…were denied. Will you marry me?"

And in that moment, it seemed the chaos that had been High Chaparral for much of the morning, stilled. Mano turned to look with amazement at Victoria and John. Blue, still leading a horse, took a few steps toward them, and then froze. Whiskey bottle in hand and a look of befuddlement on his face, Buck stared, mid drink, from the porch. The hands stopped what they were doing; even Pedro, turkey # 2 now wrapped in the blanket and firmly under his arm, stared down from the top of the water tower ladder. The rooster finally stopped his crowing.

"But…we…ARE married. Aren't we?" Victoria's face was cast in bewilderment?

"Yes. But, no." He smiled up at her. "Not the way you deserve to have been wed. So, will you? Marry me, that is. Say yes. Please."

Slowly, like morning light, Victoria's face changed from confusion to delight to joy.

"Yes. Yes. Yes! A million yeses!"

John got to his feet and slipped the ring on her finger. And only as he did so, did it occur to him that he hadn't any idea if it would fit. But it did. Of course it did.

Victoria looked at the ring and then back up at John and simply jumped up into his arms, her feet a good foot off the ground as he swung her, laughing. In a moment, they were engulfed in the surprised congratulations of their family and the larger High Chaparral family...but in just that moment, John and Victoria had exchanged a look of love and gratitude that their wedding a few weeks later would only…could only… affirm.

* * *

The wedding was a 'doozy,' as Hannibal probably said at one point. Don Sebastion had been as flummoxed as anyone with the idea of his daughter marrying the man who was already her husband, ("You know, as time has passed, I have come to appreciate my son-in-law's many fine character traits. But I confess, until now, I did not count a romantic imagination among them," he said to Mano when his son told him the news.) But once he agreed to host the wedding, as the father of the bride, he threw himself into the endeavor with gusto.

Large tents…pavilions really…were erected on the rancho grounds to provide additional rooms as well as space and shade for the wedding itself and the wedding feast. Anything remotely habitable in Sonora was rented out for guests that overflowed the rancho. Chefs were hired, wine…a great deal of wine…was purchased. Two tailors and three seamstresses worked non- stop on wedding apparel.

John said he would do absolutely anything that Victoria wanted as part of the wedding, EXCEPT, go through another suit fitting. So, after some grumbling, one of the tailor's was assigned to turn his San Francisco white tie and tails into a wedding coat, with a softer shirt and a blue tie. Don Sebastion's personal tailor was assigned to fit suits for Buck, Blue and Mano. Mano was used to such indulgence but Buck and Blue found the whole process almost as alarming as John. Still, they endured it with good grace and looked quite sharp in their dark suits with colorful embroiled lapels.

In celebration of the coming wedding, John had given all the hands a generous bonus, and the longest serving hands…Sam, Joe, Pedro and one or two others, who were actually invited to the wedding, were also given some extra money to purchase a suit…or something like it. "It doesn't have to be fancy," John told them, "but by god you are going to look like members of a wedding." And the men had dutifully gone to Tucson to 'get some fancy duds.' (The bunkhouse gang had drawn lots to insure that there would be enough men left to guard the ranch while others were at the wedding. Promises of liquor to be brought back eased their disappointment. Some of those promises were even kept.)

And the wedding dress? Victoria knew she couldn't wear white. And for that matter she didn't really want to. John insisted that she buy something new…not just repurpose one of her old dresses. They compromised when she and the senior seamstress took her San Francisco dress…the one in the especially rich shade of cream…and incorporated pieces of ivory lace from her mother's wedding dress across the neckline and added an open lace caplet. It was breathtakingly lovely.

Victoria did worry about the jewelry. She was terribly afraid that if she didn't wear the necklace John had given her he would be hurt. But she very much wanted to wear the necklace from her mother. John surprised her though…he was surprising her a LOT these days….by anticipating her dilemma and voicing the opinion that "of course, you will want to wear your mother's jewelry. That is only right."

The guest list was a hodgepodge of neighbors of both ranches, a (very) few Army officers, some old friends of the Montoya family, including Isabelle Rodrigues, who was Victoria's closest friend from childhood and though married and now living in Mexico City, had made it a point to be there as Victoria's Maid of Honor. Buck of course, was Best Man and John had made sure that Hannibal and the delightful Mary Louise Clay were there. He had also gone to some considerable trouble to track down Dr. Mathew Kendel. John felt he owed the doctor Victoria's life, quite literally. Kendel was finally located in Santa Fe where he was trying to establish a practice, and was one of the first guests to arrive at Rancho Montoya, where he was able to spend time with both his former patient and his former 'assistant.' Both John and Victoria were delighted to have newspaperman Ebenezer Binns attend the wedding…as both guest and social correspondent.

The matter of an officiant was still a problem. A Catholic marrying a non Catholic was a violation of church doctrine and simply could not be sanctioned…or even attended … by any Catholic priest. But Don Sebastion pulled hard on very possible string he had within the church and ultimately, a gentle and now elderly Friar - who had been a religious instructor to Mano and Victoria when they were children - was allowed to be in the wedding party. It didn't hurt that the Friar was perhaps not fully cognizant of the goings on. Or perhaps he was. In either case, during the ceremony, he stood just a few feet from the couple, beaming beneficently at both of them. It made Victoria very happy to have him there. The man who actually officiated was the gracious and well spoken…in both Spanish and English…mayor of Sonora.

And so, on the appointed day, at the appointed hour, in an elegantly decorated pavilion, Don Sebastion walked his beautiful daughter down the aisle and placed her hand on the arm of her husband and husband to be. Vows were exchanged, clearly and simply. The Mayor pronounced them husband and wife, the bride and groom embraced and kissed and the gathered guests erupted in a very un-dignified series of whoops and hollers and cheers.

Then everyone went to another pavilion and ate a great deal. And drank even more; a LOT more. Almost everyone that is. At a certain point, Buck was just sober enough to look to where Victoria and John had been receiving congratulations and discovered that they were no longer there.

They simply had vanished. A few horses and a carriage were missing but no one had seen them leave…or at least no one who was sober enough to remember. For some reason, suspicion immediately fell on Hannibal. "Yeah…you knew about this…" Blue waved his hand about to take in the entire event…"before anyone," he slurred. But Hannibal, steadfastly proclaimed innocence of any knowledge of Victoria and John's whereabouts. He did however acknowledge that he had a message from John. "Oh, yeah…what?" Demanded Buck, swaying ever so slightly.

"He said, 'Don't worry'."

"Don't worry!? That's all?" Mano kept a steadying had on Buck…also useful to steady himself. "But this is dangerous country," Mano protested. "You…they…anyone… can't just go wandering off into the desert."

Hannibal chuckled. "Seems like they can. And did."

Buck, Blue and Mano continued to sway in their boots. Finally Buck spoke up, "Aw, John ain't crazy…well, sometimes he is crazy…but not crazy like that. They're all right. Let's go get some more to drink, before it runs out." Buck flung his arms around Blue and Mano's shoulders.

"Amigo," Mano said with a laugh, "if we drink for the next month, it will not run out."

"Amigo," Buck replied, "I consider that a challenge. Let's go!"

In fact, no one ever did find out where John and Victoria had gone after their wedding. They simply showed up at the High Chaparral about 10 days later, looking hale, hearty and extremely self satisfied. "Like a couple of cats that drank all the cream," Buck remarked. And no amount of teasing or probing could get either of them to reveal where they have been.

* * *

You might say nothing really changed at High Chaparral after the re-wedding of John and Victoria. Carving a life out of a hostile environment still presented an endless series of challenges, alleviated by the small and important joys that came along for the ride as well. But, if you looked past the day to day…whether those days were good or dangerous or difficult… it was possible to see an even deeper level of commitment underpinning the whole enterprise; a commitment which seemed always to spring from Victoria and John at its core..

"Because," as Ebenezer had expounded to his drunken neighbor at the wedding dinner table, "the thing the sets John Canon and the whole Canon family… The High Chaparral…apart from all the many other worthy ventures in this land, is their sense of responsibility and commitment TO that responsibility." Ebenezer paused to wag his finger under the bleary eyed man's nose. "As our late, great President, Abraham Lincoln so eloquently put it, "Commitment is what turns a promise into reality."

The (almost) End

_Author's other note: Now, some of you are probably wondering what happened to Sadie and Sara. And I am pleased to report that after wandering in the desert for considerably less that 40 days and 40 nights, the two goats were found by a small band of Apaches. The goats made a happy, if occasionally troublesome, addition to the herds the Apaches tended. Sadie…or maybe it was Sara…never did get over her love of flour._

The End


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